


Vendetta (or Pretty Little Thieves)

by Lines_of_Pain_and_Glory



Category: Leverage, Pretty Little Liars
Genre: AU-Uh Character Transposition? Warning: will not make any sense if you don’t know both shows, Also Mona is alive because Mona IS their Sterling I’m just saying, Because the PLL formula pretty much relies on them never getting their shit together and kicking ass, But wouldn't that be fun to watch?, Gen, Second Warning: still possibly crack, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lines_of_Pain_and_Glory/pseuds/Lines_of_Pain_and_Glory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are we going to do?”  Aria rests her head in her hands looking at the small pile of crumpled bills you’ve got left between you sitting on the diner table.</p>
<p>Spencer laughs suddenly, a harsh, shrill sound like she’s lost it again.  “We’re criminals.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vendetta (or Pretty Little Thieves)

They all look to you because you’ve done this before, but it was different back then. You had money and you still had friends or thought you did. Now, you all have nothing but each other. You can never contact anyone from home again or you’re all going down for murder one, but you’re not ready to let “A” get the last laugh yet.

“What are we going to do?” Aria rests her head in her hands looking at the small pile of crumpled bills you’ve got left between you sitting on the diner table.

Spencer laughs suddenly, a harsh, shrill sound like she’s lost it again. “We’re criminals.”

The other girls exchange a nervous look, but you nod. You know how Spencer’s brain works.

“So?” Hanna glances between the two of you.

Emily’s the next to catch on. “So we get good at it.”

 

It’s the hardest on Emily. She hates violence, hates guns, but she gets good with them and with her fists, with a chokehold, because someone has to keep you safe. “I’m not going to lose you again,” she says, standing over the bodies of guys three times her size.

Spencer’s not a natural either. She tears her hair out trying to teach herself to hack, but she’s the one who’ll never give up. You have to pry the laptop out of her hands and order her to sleep and remind her that she’ll get it eventually and eventually she does. Spencer’s the book smart one, but she’s not always smart about people, about what makes them tick, what they’re really capable of with the right motivation.

Now, Aria? Aria was born to be a con artist. She looks so much older and worldlier than she is. When you say you’re an heiress or a TV star in Japan sometimes you can talk fast enough to get people to buy it, but all Aria has to do is smile her sad, soft smile and wear big, dark sunglasses and everyone stares and whispers, “Who’s that girl?” The mark always falls for her because her empathy isn’t fake. You just have to keep an eye on her to make sure she isn’t falling back.

Hanna’s the one who surprises you, picking pockets, picking locks, hotwiring cars, playing dumb if she gets caught. She can climb anything in the sickest heels, wiggle through the tightest air-ducts. When you left she was just “Hefty Hanna”, the one who didn’t really belong at the cool girls’ table, and now look at her, she’s a total badass.

The framed “FBI’s Most Wanted” posters hanging on the wall above your desk look more like headshots than mugshots: Hanna Marin: Thief, Aria Montgomery: Grifter, Spencer Hastings: Hacker, Emily Fields: Hitter, and Alison DiLaurentis: Mastermind. You love the sound of that.

 

“Hello, Ali.” 

“Really, the badge and pantsuit? So lame, Mona.” You can take the glasses off the nerd, but she’ll always be a nerd.

“Did your hairbrush decide you were a bitch too?” 

“Bedhead is in this year.” Maybe you should just stop calling people losers. They seem to take it as a challenge to beat you at your own games. 

“Love it with the Eau de Jack Daniels, very trailer park chic,” Mona says, slapping on the cuffs. 

Or not. Lucky for Mona, her name’s not at the top of your hit list.

 

The security footage gets less and less blurry with each tap of Spencer’s fingers over the keys.

“Oh, my god, is that who I think it is?”

You smile your most poisonous smile at the face on the big conference room screen. “A” is about to find out what happens when you mess with the wrong bitches.


End file.
